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H ' .MWii.ii iii ui iiii i iiiii ii i i i i iii iiiwi ii ii iii ii ii iii ii u i ii i i ii i i ii i u ii iii ii u iirii ni iii i ii ii i i ii i i i iii i iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiliM ^ 




SONGS OF SEVEN. 



BY 



JEAN I N G E L O W. 



Jlllustratct). 



53 




BOSTON: 
ROBERTS BROTHERS. 

iSSi. 



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Copyright, 1S81, 
By Roberts Brothers. 






The full-page illustrations are designed by Miss C. A. 
NoRTHAM and J. Francis Muupiiy ; the titlepage, and those 
in the text, by Einiuxp H. Garrett. The book is prepared 
and the illustrations engraved by Geo. T. Andrew. 







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Seven Times Oxk: Kxtltation . . . 
Seven Times Two : Romance ... 

Seven Times Tiihee : Love 

Seven Times Folk : Mateknitv 
Seven Times Five : "Widoavhood 
Seven Times Six: Giving in ^TAHRiAfiE 
Seven Times Seven: Longing for Home 



Pace 
l(j 

23 
20 
33 
30 
43 








TlTLEPAGE. 

SEVEN TIMES ONE 

"I am seven times one to-day" 
" The lambs play always, they know no better" 
' * You are nothing now but a bow " . 
" columbine, open your folded wrapper" 



11 
11 
13 
li 
15 



SEVEN TIMES TWO 

" I wait for my story — the birds cannot sing it ' 
" Turn again, turn again, once they rang cheerily " . 
Tailpiece 



16 
17 
19 
20 



SEVEN TIMES THREE 

" Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the gate " 
" You night-moths that hover where honey brims over' 
Tailpiece 



21 
21 
24 
25 



SEVEN TIMES FOUR .... 

" Heigh-ho ! daisies and buttercups ! 

Mother shall thread them a daisy chain." 
" A sliip sails afar over warm ocean waters " 
Tailpiece 



26 



29 
30 



lO 



Illustrations. 



SEVEX TIMES FIVE .... 
"I lift mine eyes, and what to see 
But a world liappj- and fair ! " 
"0 what anear but golden brooms " . 
Tailpiece 

SEVEN TIMES SIX .... 
" Thy mother's tenderest words are said, 
Thy face no more she views." 

"To wed. 
And with thy lord dejiart " 
Tailpiece 

SEVEN TIMES SEVEN 

" Can I call that home where I anchor yet 
Though my good man has sailed ?" 

" Lightly she rocked to her port remote " 
" She faded out on the moonlit foam " 
" There was once a nest in a hollow" . 
" One after one they flew away " 
Tailpiece .... 



Page 
31 

31 
34 
35 

36 

37 

39 
40 

41 

41 
43 
44 

4.T 

4C 
47 



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EXULTATION. 
'/ am seven times one to-day." 



I 





SONGS OF SEVEN. 



vi 



Seven t lines One. 

EXULTATION. 

HERE'S no clew left on the daisies and 
clover 
There's no rain left in heaven ; 
I've said my " seven times " over and over, 
Seven times one are seven. 

1 am old, so old, I can wTite a letter ; 

My birthday lessons are done ; 
The lambs play always, they know no better ; 

Thev are only one times one. 



14 Songs of Seven, 

moon ! in the niglit I have seen you sailing 
And shining so round and low ; 

You were bright ! ah bright ! but your light is 
failing : 
You are nothinfr now but a bow. 




Y(iu moon, have ynu done siJiiiethiug w rung ni 
heaven 

That God has hidden your face ? 
I hope if you have you will soon be forgiven, 

And shme again in your place. 



velvet bee, you're a dusty fellow. 
You've powdered your legs with gold ! 

brave marsh marybuds, rich and yellow, 
Give me your money to hold ! 



c 



' 'V. 




columbine, open your folded wrapper, 
Where two twin turtle-doves dwell ! 

cuckoopint, toll me the purple clapper 
That hangs in your clear green bell. 

And show me your nest with the young 
ones in it ; 
I will not steal them away ; 

1 am old ! you may trust me, linnet, linnet : 
I am seven times one to-dav. 




•\"> 




Seven times Two. 

ROMANCE. 

"V^OU bells in the steeple, ring, ring out your 
changes, 
How many soever they be, 
And let the brown meadow-lark's note as he 
ranf^es 
Come over, come over to me. 



Yet bird's clearest carol by fall or by swelling 

No magical sense conveys, 
And bells have forgotten their old art of telling 

The fortune of future davs. 




K O M A N C E. 
"/ wait for my story — the birds cannot sing it." 



So7ios of Seven. 

" Turn again, turn again," once they rang cheerily, 

While a boy listened alone ; 
Made his heart yearn again, musing so wearily 

All by himself on a stone. 



»9 




Poor bells ! I forgive you ; your good days are over, 

And mine, they are yet to be ; 
No listening, no longing, shall aught, aught discover : 

You leave the story to me. 



The foxglove shoots out of the green matted heather, 

Preparing her hoods of snow ; 
;She was idle, and slept till the sunshiny weather : 

O, children take Iduu; to otow. 



20 



Songs of Seven. 



I wish, and I wish that the spring would go faster. 

Nor long summer bide so late ; 
And I could grow on like the foxglove and aster, 

For some things are ill to wait. 

I wait for the day when dear hearts shall discover, 
While dear hands are laid on my head ; 

" The child is a woman, the book may close over, 
For all the lessons are said." 

I wait for my story — the birds cannot sing it, 

Not one, as he sits on the tree ; 
The bells cannot ring it, but long years, bring it ! 

Such as I wish it to be. 





LOVE. 

" Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the gate." 




Seven times lliree. 

LOVE. 
~r LEANED out of window, I smelt the white 
clover, 
Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the gate ; 
" Now, if there he footsteps, he comes, my one 
lover — 
Hush, nightingale, hush ! 0, sweet nightingale, 
wait 

Till I listen and hear 
If a step draweth near, 
Eor mv love he is late ! 



24 



Songs of Seven. 



" The skies in the darkness stoop nearer and nearer, 

A cluster of stars hangs Hke fruit in the tree, 

The fall of the water conies sweeter, conies clearer : 

To what art thou listening, and what dost thou see ? 

Let the star-clusters glow, 

Let the sweet waters flow. 

And cross quickly to me. 




" You night-moths that liover where honey Ijrims 
over 
From sycamore blossoms, or settle or sleep ; 
You glow-worms, shine out, and the patliway dis- 
cover 
To him that comes darkhng along the rough steep. 
Ah, my sailor, make haste. 
For the time runs to waste, 
And my love lieth deep — 



Sotigs of Seven. 



25 



" Too deep for swift telling ; and yet, my one lover 

I've conned thee an answer, it waits thee to-night." 
By the sycamore passed he, and through the white 
clover, 
Then all the sweet speech I had fashioned took 
flight; 

But I'll love him more, more 
Than e'er wife loved before, 
Be the days dark or bright. 




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^ \| \ Seven times Four. 



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MATERNITY. 



^' 



"I TEIGH-HQ ! daisies and buttercups, 

Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall ! ^- 
Wlien the wind wakes how they rock in the grasses, 
And dance with the cuckoo-buds slender and 
small ! 
Here's two bonny boys, and here's mother's own 
lasses, 

Eacer to trather them all. 




MATERNITY. 

^^ Heigh-ho! daisies and bitttcrcufs ! 

Mother shall thread them a daisy chain." 



Songs of Seven. 

Heigh-ho ! daisies and buttercups ! 

Mother shall thread them a daisy chain ; 
Sing them a song of the pretty hedge-sparrow, 
That loved her bruwn little ones, loved them 
full fain ; 
Sing, " Heart, thou art wide though the house be 
but narrow," — 

Sing once, and sing it again. 



29 




Heigh-ho ! daisies and buttercups, 

Sweet wagging cowslips, they bend and they bow ; 
A ship sails afar over w^nrm ocean waters, 

And haply one musing doth stand at her prow. 
O bouny brown sons, and sweet little daughters, 
Maybe he thinks on you now ! 



30 



So;^o-s of Seven. 



Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups, 

Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall — 
A sunshiny world full of laughter and leisure, 

And fresh liearts unconscious of soitow and thrall ! 
Send down on their pleasure smiles passing its nisas- 
ure, 

God that is over us all ! 



•<J:^■i 





\\ 1 D O W HOOD. 

' / lift mine eyes, and what to see 
But a woiid happy and fair! ^^ 










;.-£ Seven times Five. «t^y?^ «s\^ 



W 1 D W II D. 



T SLEEP and rest, my heart makes 
moan 

Before I am well awake ; 
" Let me bleed ! let me alone,' ^^F^^^^ 

Since I must not break ! " 



For children wake, tliouoh fathers 

sleep ^^>^$'<^'^~^ 

With a stone at foot and at head : - 
sleepless Qod, for ever keep, " " - . _ ' "' 

Keep both living and dead ! 




■) 



34 



Songs of Seven. 



I lift mine eves, and what to see 
But a world happy and fair ! 

I have not wished it to mourn with 
me, — 
Comfort is not there. 




what anear but golden brooms. 
And a waste of reedy rills ! 

what afar but the fine glooms 
On the rare bhie hills 1 



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I shall not die, but live f orlore — 

How bitter it is to part ! 
O to meet thee, mv love, once more '. 

mv heart, mv heart ! 



Songs of Seven. 

Xo iiKH'e to hear, no more to see ! 

that an echo might wake 
And waft one note of thy psahn to me 

Ere my heart strings break ! 

I should know it how faint soe'er, 
And with angel-voices blent ; 

O once to feel thy spirit anear, 
I could be content. 

Or once between the gates of gold, 

While an entering angel trod, 
But once — thee sitting to behold 

On the hills of God ! 



35 





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Seven times Six. 

GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

n^O bear, to nurse, to rear, 

To watch, and then to lose : 
To see my bright ones disappear, 
Drawn up like mornmg dews — 
To bear, to nurse, to rear. 

To watch, and then to lose : 
Tliis have I done when God drew 
near 
Vi ng his ov/n to choose. 




GIVING IN MARRIAGE. 

" Thy mother's tenderest words are said, 
Thy face no more she views." 



Sonos of Seven. 



39 



To hear, to heed, to wed, 

And with thy lord depart 
In tears that he, as soon as shed, 

Will let no longer smart. — 
To hear, to heed, to wed, 

This while thon didst I smiled, 
For now it was not God wIkj said, 

"Mother, give me thy child." 




O fond, O fool, and blind, 

To God I gave with tears ; 
But when a man like grace would find, 

My soul put by her fears. 
fond, fool, and blind, 

God guards in happier spheres ; 
Tliat man will guard where he did bind 

Is hope for unknown years. 



40 



Songs of Seven, 



To hear, to lieed, to wed, 

Fair lot that maidens choose. 
Thy mother's tenderest words are said, 

Thy face no more she views ; 
Thy mother's lot, my dear. 

She doth m naught accuse ; 
Her lot to bear, to nurse, to rear, 

To love — and then to lose. 





LONGING FOR HOME. 



" Can I call that home where I anchor yet, 
Though my good man has sailed ? " 




Seven times Seven. 

LONGING FOR HOME. 

A SONG of a boat : — 

There was once a boat on a billow : 
Lightly she rocked to her port remote, 

And the foam was white iii lier wake like snow, 
And her frail mast bowed when the breeze would 
blow. 
And bent like a wand of willow. 



44 



Songs of Seven. 



I shaded mine eyes one day when a boat 

Went curtseymg over the billow, 
I marked her course till a dancuig mote 
She faded out on the moonht foam, 
And I stayed behind in the dear loved home ; 
And my thoughts all day were about the boat. 
And my dreams upon the pillow. 




I pray you hear my song of a boat, 

For it is but sliort : — 
My boat, you shall find none fairer afloat, 

In river or port. 
Long I looked out for the lad she bore, 

On the open desolate sea, 
And I think he sailed to the heavenly shore, 

For he came not back to me — 

Ah me ! 




There was once a nest in a hollow : 
Down in the mosses and knot-grass 
pressed, 

Soft and warm, and full to the brim. 
Vetches leaned over it purple and dim, 
With buttercup buds to follow. 



I pray you hear my song of a nest, 

For it is not long : — 
You shall never light, in a summer quest 

The bushes among — 
Shall never light on a prouder sitter, 

A fairer nestful, nor ever know 
A softer sound than their tender twitter. 
That wind-like did come and go. 



46 



Sojigs of Seven. 



I had a nestful once of my own, 
Ah happy, happy I ! 
Right dearly I loved them : but when they 
were grown 
They spread out their wangs to fly. 
0, one after one they flew away 

Far up to the heavenly blue, 
To the better country, the upper day. 
And — I wish I was ooing too. 



^ 




I pray you, what is the nest to me, 

My empty nest ? 
And what is the shore where I stood to see 

My boat sail dow^i to the west ? 
Can I call that home where I anchor yet. 

Though my good man has sailed ? 



Soiio^s of Seven. 



47 



Can I call that home where my nest was set. 

Now all its hope hath failed ? 
Nay, but the port where my sailor went, 

And the land where my nestlings be, — 
There is the home where my thoughts are sent, 

The only home for me — 

Ah me ! 




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